A suspicion as soon as I wake up. This might be the last "normal" stage. A feeling that is both liberating and unsettling at the same time. Will my adventure come to an end today? I'm at a bit of a loss, but an empty stomach after a night in a Siberian icebox is rarely a good guide and even less of a mood booster.
Fact is, my shin made a pretty bad impression last night. Swollen, hot, painful. No good prospects for the rest of the hike. But I might as well give it a try. The eternal mantra of professional optimists - it'll be fine somehow ...
Aurelius Augustine (354-430) said: It is better to limp along the right path than to wander off the beaten track.
And so, I hurry once again through the gloomy alleyways of Xunqueira de Ambia in anticipation of a sumptuous breakfast. After all, the dog has disappeared and I'm hoping for a dry and warm place in the house for him.
From Xunqueira to Ourense
So, perhaps for the last time, I put my rucksack on my back, grab my walking sticks and set off. It's still the half-light of dawn, nobody to be seen, Saturday, people are enjoying the morning off. Ah well, an early riser, Bom Caminho, I greet back.
The stage is easy to manage at just over 20 kilometers, the input of ibuprofen will help to get through the first half without pain, what follows afterwards remains to be seen.
Genuine Galicia
The fact that I am in Galicia is proven not only by the cool and rainy weather, but also by a distinct connection to its most famous saint, St. James.
Signposts are not just signposts, they are small works of art by the wayside, decorated with shells, sometimes with images of saints. You can't help but stop and marvel at the people whose devotion is so deep that no effort is too big to pay tribute to the great saint.
As I suffer from a considerable lack of piety, I remain somewhat mockingly astonished at this almost medieval idolatry. But whenever something smells of piety, business acumen and greed play a role that should not be underestimated. God knows there are enough examples. Just think of Einsiedeln.
However, I have to admit that as a hiker, here in Galicia of course perceived as a pilgrim, I am treated with almost intimidating respect and goodwill. There are even benches provided for the weary peregrino (Banco Peregrino). I feel like I've been given a pat on the shoulder.
Bom Caminho
And yet another aspect points to a different culture, the language. Here, Gallego is spoken, a language related to Portuguese, so no longer the hard, fast, aggressive Spanish, but the soft, warm Gallego. And so you are no longer greeted with “Buen Camino” but with “Bom Caminho”.
Less Bom Caminho is the fact that the path now repeatedly leads along the roadside. The drivers are kind, but that doesn't prevent you from occasionally being hit by a load of dirty water.
The messages from Zhilin and Frank show different progress: While Zhilin has already arrived in Santiago (three cheers), Frank is still quite far behind. He complains - who doesn't - about bad weather and improper rain gear. I wish them both a good rest or Bom Caminho and better weather.
Cafes and bars
Actually, if it weren't for the weather, you might call it a really enjoyable stage. In contrast to previous stages - just think of Extremadura and its endless stages without the slightest variety - here in Galicia there is a small café or at least a bar on every corner (surprisingly open most of the time). You notice the different culture, of course a direct consequence of the climate, which doesn't call for siestas in the midday heat.
And so I find myself sitting at a table again and again, being surprised by all kinds of unfamiliar pastries as well as coffee. The innkeepers are friendly throughout by asking the somewhat tired hiker how he is feeling. Of course, I bravely conceal my troubles, point out the short distance ahead of me and am very proud when they give me an appreciative nod.
An attempt to explain
The path constantly climbs and descends, while the landscape to the right and left of the Camino barely changes: green, lush, a rough, damp world. On the way, I reflect more than on previous days on the quintessence of this long hike. Perhaps there is none. It is simply a hike, longer than all the others, hotter, more strenuous, pushing the limits of endurance. I am quoting an unknown author who may have had similar experiences:
Outside the comfort zone is where the magic happens!
There's no better way to put it. It has to do with magic, with everything that happens when you leave your daily life behind. When, to put it bluntly, you simply march off towards the horizon. It doesn't have to be the Via de la Plata or the Pacific Crest Highway from Mexico to Canada. Or the countless other long-distance hikes through inhabited or uninhabited areas of the world.
It has to do with leaving something familiar and safe behind and embracing something unknown and uncertain. Not with fear, but with respect and the certainty that it is worth trying. Not trying is the biggest mistake in life. Realizing, when you're lying on your deathbed, what you've missed out. Because you didn't try.
That's all. Because trying is the magic I mean.
The last kilometers
I'm making surprisingly fast progress. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I want to reach my destination as quickly as possible, the reason for this is probably clear, as the effects of the medication have long since worn off. Ourense is recognizable from afar, apparently situated on a hill. The proximity of the city is already noticeable many kilometers ahead. The traffic increases, the roads become wider.
After Seixalbo, a suburb of Ourense, the first houses of Ourense appear. And at the same time, it starts to drizzle. The rain has made itself scarce today, probably a farewell gift from the weather god, but for the last few kilometers it needs to annoy me once again.
The path leads endlessly through some faceless outskirts, nothing worth mentioning. It seems that the ugliness of the surroundings matches the increasing pain in my leg. The center of the city, where I hope to find my hotel, has to be endured.
Ourense
The sidewalks are full, it's Saturday, and even the rain doesn't stop people from strolling through the streets and alleyways. The city is much bigger than expected. Which is actually the wrong way to put it, because I didn't actually expect anything because I simply didn't know anything.
I'll have to read up later on what I've missed. So, the city has just over 100'000 inhabitants, is the capital of the province of the same name, has - unsurprisingly - a cathedral and numerous churches and monasteries. In other words, a stronghold of piety.
It must be the proximity of Santiago, but perhaps it merely has a similar past, founded as usual by the Romans, then besieged by various peoples, destroyed, rebuilt. Nothing new under the sun.
According to modern practices, access to the hotel can only be found with a password. The establishment is fine, a bit sterile as I won't see anyone from the hotel or other guests for the entire time I'm there. That's okay, my need for social contacts is currently limited to a minimum.
Nevertheless, in the late afternoon I allow myself a limping trip up to the crowded shopping mile, looking in vain for something interesting (e.g. a cathedral), but apart from surprising escalators up the slope (very welcome for my legs) I just find a bar with coffee and cake.
And in the evening, hard to believe in such a big city, I look for a restaurant, but they are either still closed or already fully booked (Saturday evening!), and so I end up in what I think is a pizzeria, but which turns out to be "pizza to go" in Spanish. My hunger is too great to resist the tempting scent on offer.
And so, to round off this memorable day, so to speak, I make a big mistake by eating this pizza, which later turns out to be quite unpleasant for my digestive system.
Well, you never stop learning.
From Ourense to Santiago de Compostela
t's not easy to find a bus to Santiago (I probably lack the inner fire for it, because in the end it's the final acceptance of defeat). The information on the web is somewhat contradictory, and after the experiences in Laza, distrust is the order of the day.
But finally the moment arrives when I press the button and confirm the reservation. Not a nice moment, but unfortunately unavoidable. I'm sitting, probably for the last time in a breakfast bar, the last time I'll have tostada con mantequilla y mermelada, reviewing the last few weeks in my mind.
I haven't reached my destination yet, but somehow I have. The inner farewell is already underway. Today's destination, if everything had worked out, would have been Cea, then the other stage destinations, which I will now miss out on.
And this is what the rest of the hike would have looked like, a good 100 kilometers through green Galicia to Santiago de Compostela. It would have been nice.
The last bus
And so shortly after ten, not in an overly good mood, I sit in the comfortable bus that is supposed to take me to A Susana. Pain or no pain, I'm not going to miss out on walking the last 10 kilometers to Santiago.
The bus driver is informed, his look on my limping walk shows him that he is dealing with a pronounced victim of the Camino (or overconfidence, commonly called hubris). He even helps me with my rucksack to stow it away, and for the first time I feel just as old as I am.
Things are moving so unspeakably fast. As soon as I've made myself comfortable, we reach Cea (where I looked for a hotel last week). A short stop, a few people get off, others get on, then we continue swiftly towards the north.
Every now and then I recognize the Camino signposts, again and again long stretches along the road, at least something to ease my frustration. Then O Castro Dozon flies past like a phantom, a short time later Silleda, which could have been a great stage, and I have to get ready to arrive at my destination in A Susana.
From A Susana to Santiago – The last Waltz
The bus stops, the driver turns to me with a smile and calls out “A Susana”. The faces of the other passengers turn to me, I nod to them and get out.
The final chapter has begun. The weather is the same as always, it doesn't rain for once, but the sky shows its sad side with dark clouds and low-hanging clouds of fog. Of course it's a very short stage, just under 10 kilometers, which allows me to arrive at the cathedral shortly after midday, in time for the pilgrim mass, but that doesn't interest me much.
It's the last few kilometers of my hike, so I don't care what the path looks like. It might be going vertically up or down a wall, I would still enjoy every second of it. However, the path only leads along a road, but before I set off on this last stretch, first a coffee in what is probably the last bar on the way.
And so I sit down, the landlady is busy, chatting to a customer while drying the glasses. At this moment, I feel a strange desire to be able to trade places with them. There's nothing I can do, the melancholy is there, it can't be thought or felt away.
The trail is pleasant, apart from the fact that the proximity to the city is noticeable. The path leads through forest, then through villages that look more like suburbs. And then, I realize without really knowing it, I have reached Santiago.
And then I have arrived
The last stretch to the cathedral leads up the hill, past gray house walls, in front of me and behind me suddenly other hikers, young people, their smiling faces showing that they are happy and proud to have reached their destination.
My pace becomes slower and slower, for once it's not a consequence of the pain. I want to enjoy the last few meters. Stately buildings now line the path, dark clouds as halos over the towers.
The final destination – the Cathedral
I cross a vault, climb down a few steps to the large square in front of the cathedral and then I'm just there.
Of course there is a hustle and bustle, hikers and pilgrims have gathered in every nook and cranny. There is an excited atmosphere, laughter, young voices, everyone is taking photos, selfies, videos, hugging each other, laughing and crying and just being happy.
I'm off then
And so the path ends on the Via de la Plata, on the Camino de Santiago. Tomorrow I'm flying home, the flight is booked, there's no escape.
In the evening I have dinner with Zhilin, laughing and chatting, but secretly we know that the likelihood of seeing each other again one day is extremely low.
And then Monday comes, it's October 23rd, I say goodbye to Zhilin, our hearts are heavy.
Almost seven weeks ago, I stood in front of the cathedral in Seville, full of energy and hope that everything would work out. And then came days and weeks full of wonderful moments, full of heat and seemingly endless paths. And sometimes the thought that I would never again see anything as beautiful as some of the early mornings, the orange fire of the rising sun on the horizon.
In these moments I wonder if everything I've seen was just a dream within a dream. A beautiful dream!
Hasta la vista y buen camino.!
Matching song: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Goodbye Angels
And here the path ends, but just this one, because who knows, the world is big...
